


Get the Scoop

by waypoint



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, shootweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-04 19:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10997256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waypoint/pseuds/waypoint
Summary: AURoot is a journalist from a small newspaper in New York City who finds herself paired with Sameen Shaw, a detective with the NYPD.  In order to solve a dangerous crime, the pair must learn to work together while dealing with challenges both big and small.#shootweek





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Root, a mild-mannered reporter and Shaw, a tough-as-nails police detective. Working together to bring criminals to justice, what could go wrong? (Nothing, they kick ass.)

 

 

Ever since she was a child, Samantha Groves considered herself a seeker of the truth. Growing up in a small town in Texas, she built a reputation among her teachers and classmates as _always the honest_ _Sam_. It didn't matter the circumstance, the truth was the most important thing to her. She exposed those who cheated on tests, cut class, or even those who bullied others. Of course, this made her quite unpopular, and the kids called her names like Sam the Snitch, or The Rat.

 

One night at the library, when she saw her only friend being lured into the car of a local man, she immediately reported the incident to the nearest adult. She expected the librarian to believe her accusations, after all, Sam never lied. But instead she scolded her, saying that this was just a way for her to keep getting attention.

 

A few weeks later, they found Hanna's body.

 

At first, she couldn't help feel partially responsible for her friends death. But after reading the news report, she realized that it was the adults who were the blame. The ones that considered her just an attention seeking little girl, trying to be noticed by the grown ups. Telling the truth was no longer her friend, and the only way to make this right was by turning to lies.

 

Sam used her considerable computer skills to expose the man for killing for friend, leaking the information to the police who successfully arrested him for the crime. Afterwards, she wrote a newspaper article detailing the incident, as well as the incompetency of the local police. As well, she included details of the man's previous transgressions, ones that he apparently thought were buried.

 

Not wanting the local PD to know it was her that set everything in motion, her article was submitted anonymously. Of course, what she wrote never ended up being published, likely to protect the image of law enforcement. The truth had always been there before, yet no one cared to listen. She felt a fundamental change within herself, one that had become necessary.  Sam had to become someone else, someone who used lying to get what she wanted. It worked much better than honesty, and she decided to leave The Rat behind, and started calling herself Root.

 

When her ill mother passed, the final piece of Samantha Groves had died along with her, Root decided. And she left behind that hic town and everyone in it. She used her skills to expose lying scumbags that hurt other people, or used their position to benefit themselves.

 

Thankful that computers were on the rise, Root was eventually able to start a blog where she would write her exposé pieces on the disgusting humans that littered the world around her. She would easily hack into banks, emails, and security cameras to get the dirt she needed and then write a piece to match. It became quite popular and she liked to think of it as their punishment for lying. She even broke stories before some high level newspapers did.

 

Eventually, however, the law caught up with her and she was arrested in New York City for cyber crimes. While she awaited her transport to the prison, she was visited by a man claiming to be her uncle, Harold Finch. He explained that he respected her ability to get to the truth no matter what, but the means she used were less than desirable. He offered to use his money and influence to have her released, if she agreed to shut down her blog and come to work for him at his newspaper, writing articles the _right_ way, with 'journalistic integrity', he called it.

 

Go to prison, or go back on the straight and narrow? The choice was easy. Though she had come to enjoy the thrill of, well, crime, she vowed to work hard to shift back into a decent person.

 

Harold gave her a new name, and a new purpose. Though she still preferred Root, the rest of the world would come to know her as Robin Farrow. She moved to New York City after being released and began her life yet again. Harold helped her to see how not everyone was bad code, and eventually she found her place at New York Inquisitor, all but forgetting her brief streak of deviousness. Or, she thought she had.

 

Being a real journalist was hard. People didn't tell her anything, deadlines were always looming, and her co-workers thought she was crazy. It wasn't like before when she could just _threaten_ the people until they told her what she needed for a story, or better yet just go into their computer and get the details herself. She dropped the ball on a lot of big stories as a result of her not being adjusted to this kind of work and she was eventually demoted all the way to the basement of the building, working the least satisfying stories imaginable:

 

_The oldest resident in NYC celebrates their birthday._

 

_Another library is closed._

 

_Local restaurant gets a new sign._

 

It was mind numbing.

 

Although she appreciated Harold taking her in and giving her this chance, she couldn't take much more of the nonsense when there was _actual_ crimes that she could be exposing.

 

Before she could fall back into her old ways, however, Harold had come down to the bullpen with some very interesting news. Apparently the Inquisitor was doing some kind of joint project with the NYPD, the goal being offering a more “real look” at what the police force handles in one of the most dangerous cities in the world. A few reporters would be assigned to a police officer or detective, they would shadow them as they worked and write news articles on cases as they happened. In turn, the officers would come to appreciate how much work goes into keeping up with everything going on in New York. For the first time in years, Root was actually _excited_ about her job.

 

She sat at her desk staring at the phone, eager to be called upstairs to meet her partner, absently tapping her pen while she waited. When it finally rang, she was so excited (nervous?) that she fumbled with the receiver, nearly dropping it back down into the cradle.

 

“Oh! Sorry, Harry. Hello,” she stammered.

 

“ _Good day, Robin. Would you mind coming up to my office?_ ”

 

“I'll be right there,” in her haste to walk from her desk, she forgot to put the phone back down and nearly pulled the entire line along with her. Shaking her head at herself, she put everything back in place and headed for the elevator.

 

She pressed the button for floor 20 and it began ascent. She didn't often ride the elevator, since she mainly traveled the short distance from the main floor to the basement, but she certainly wasn't going to walk up twenty flights. The lift ended up stopping on the main floor anyway, and Root's stomach fluttered at the unfamiliar woman who stepped through the doors.

 

To say she was stunning would be the understatement of the century. Petite, but obviously very fit, Root would almost describe the woman as a shadow. Tanned skin, with her brown hair tied back, and eyes dark... menacing, even. She wore jeans, booted heels, a plain shirt, and leather jacket, all black, of course. Root saw the gold and blue shield on her belt as she turned to press the close button on the elevator, and it was hard to miss the gun and holster on her hip. She never found the presence of another person so captivating.

 

“You got a problem?”

 

And she was staring. Crap.

 

“Sorry I-” she pushed her glasses up higher. “I just haven't seen you here before.”

 

“Because I haven't been here before.”

 

Right.

 

Root looked up at the display, and the elevator had only reached the 7th floor. The woman remained impassive in her stance and kept her gaze forward.

 

“I'm Root,” she turned her head, but the other woman was motionless. “I work in the basement.”

 

Though very slight, the detective rolled her eyes. “Good for you.”

 

Root nodded to herself and faced forward again, watching as the elevator ticked up to 20 in silence.

 

Once the doors opened, the mystery cop could not leave fast enough. Root stepped out slowly, and took a moment to collect herself, briefly leaning against the wall before starting towards Harold's office.

 

She knocked twice and pushed the gold and brown doors open. “You wanted to see me, Harry?”

 

“Yes, Robin. Come in.”

 

Harold Finch stood from the large oak desk and gestured for her to enter. He wore his typical three-piece suit, and had rectangular glasses on his face. Root didn't notice right away, but there was another person sitting across from him. When they turned Root's heart leaped up into her throat, it was the attractive detective that she'd just seen in the elevator. Her dark eyes hardened in recognition.

 

Finch ushered her forward, and soon the three faced each other in the office proper. “This is detective Sameen Shaw of the NYPD. She will be your partner for the next few days during our joint venture with the department. Detective Shaw, this is my niece, Robin Farrow.”

 

“We've met,” Shaw held her hand out, Root grasped it and couldn't suppress the small yelp that escaped when the detective squeezed much harder than necessary.

 

“Wonderful,” Harold put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Robin, would you mind setting up the detective's computer? Our regular technician is otherwise occupied.”

 

Shaw finally let go of Root, but her piercing stare remained in place. Quite frankly, she would probably be very intimidated if she wasn't so entranced.

 

“S-Sure,” she cleared her throat. “I mean, yes. Absolutely,” Harold patted both their arms and gestured towards the door.

 

“Please let me know if you require anything else, detective.”

 

They exited his office together, and the walk back to the elevator bank was made without a word. Shaw pressed the button to call the lift back up when they arrived. There seemed to be so much tension in the way Shaw carried herself, obviously not thrilled with the operation. The silence was becoming unbearable, so Root tried to break it with conversation. Maybe she could charm the detective's bad mood away?

 

“I'm looking forward to working with you, Sameen.”

 

“It's Shaw,” she replied curtly.

 

Or maybe not.

 

“Sorry,” she rubbed the back of her neck, embarrassment making her feel warm. “Shaw, then.”

 

The detective pressed the elevator button several more times and the door finally dinged open. Both women stepped through together, and Root selected the basement level.

 

“We're going to have so much fun together.”

 

Shaw leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, and Root could hear her softly banging her head against it.

 

A whole week with each other... how bad could it be?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recognize that Karen Iverson might have been a more appropriate alias for Root to have, but I like the name Robin Farrow better.
> 
> Everyone may be a little OOC, but AU makes it okay.
> 
> ShootWeek Day 1: Favorite Root Moment  
> 5x06 - Crashing the wedding!


	2. Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Shoot begins investigating a case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

 

 

 

Root sat at her now shared desk typing at the computer for her new colleague. Detective Sameen Shaw stood nearby, setting up a few odds and ends on her side; police scanner, NYPD coffee mug, and some case files.

 

“And we're all set,” Root stood from the chair, allowing the detective to take the seat, and walked around to the other side of the desk. Root watched for a few minutes as Shaw entered some commands on the computer, and flipped open one of the files she had on her desk. The detective helped herself to one of the pens in Root's “work with me people” coffee mug and began filling out some kind of report.

 

“What's the plan, partner?” Root leaned forward on her desk, eager to begin working together. Shaw stopped writing and slowly brought her gaze up.

 

“We're not partners.” Root blinked. “This is just a stupid stunt the department is pulling to increase our PR image, or whatever.”

 

Oh.

 

“Okay then, Sameen, what--”

 

“Shaw.”

 

“Right, sorry Shaw.” she tried again. “What kind of case are we on today? _Murder_?”

 

Root was probably mistaken, but she thought she saw a small smirk pull up the detective's lips. Shaw folded the file she was writing in and tossed it across the desk to Root. She opened it and scanned the face page; string of break and enters in an apartment building downtown.

 

“Robbery. Grab your jacket.”

 

Shaw was up and heading towards the stairs before Root had time to close the file, but she was determined to keep up. Pulling her black coat from the back of her chair, Root quickly fell into step behind her _not_ -partner.

 

 

 

 

/

 

 

 

 

The NYPD was strict regarding the amount of resources that would be loaned to the Inquisitor during the operation, and it took Shaw almost thirty minutes to convince one of her co-workers to let them have one of the three police cruisers available. Shaw mentioned something about her own vehicle being with the mechanic. By the time she and Root made it to their destination in Morningisde Heights, another police unit was already present.

 

“Damn it,” Shaw muttered as they exited the vehicle.

 

They approached the officer at the entrance and Shaw flashed her shield, but he didn't seem interested. Maybe there was some kind of politics within the police force that Root wasn't aware of, but she would think the more cops the merrier.

 

“Sorry detective,” he said. “This case was taken over by the robbery squad this morning.”

 

“Nice try, Foster,” she glared at his name tag. “Just let us in there.”

 

“No can do. I'm not going to get written up just because you've decided to take an afternoon stroll through the area.”

 

Root's eyebrows shot up, this policeman was pretty brave talking to Shaw like that. She was surprised that Shaw wasn't--

 

“Listen here you little shit.”

 

There it is.

 

Root supposed she should to take control of the situation before they were suspended on the first day.

 

“Oh, officer!” Root cried, putting on her best pout face. “You just _have_ to let us in.”

 

“No I don't. Who are _you_?”

 

She threw herself at the cop and clung to his arm. “Please, sir, detective Shaw was just escorting me to see my grandmother. She's been so scared because of all of these break-ins, I just wanted to reassure her that she's safe.”

 

His expression softened a bit. “Your... grandmother?”

 

“It would mean so much to her, having a member of New York's finest _personally_ checking in. Please Officer Foster, don't make me disappoint my poor Nana.”

 

He hesitated, looking from Shaw to Root before finally gesturing towards the door with his free hand. “If anyone asks, it wasn't me who let you guys in there.”

 

Root bounced on her heels and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Thank you so much!”

 

She and Shaw squeezed passed him and raced up the stairs into the apartment building.

 

“What the _hell_ was that?” Shaw asked when they were walking down the hall out of earshot.

 

Root shrugged. “I'm good at lying.”

 

“How does that make any sense? You're a journalist.”

 

Root must have still been high on the adrenaline she got after fooling that stupid cop, her reply spilled out before she could stop herself: “Have a drink with me, and I'll tell you the whole story.”

 

“Excuse me?” Shaw stopped walking, Root turned to her but her expression was unreadable.

 

“Um...”

 

Mercifully, they'd arrived at the apartment and Shaw spoke again before she was forced to back pedal on her words. “Here it is.”

 

 

 

/

 

 

Luckily, Shaw was all business for the duration of their mission, taking detailed notes and photographs from each of the apartments that had been broken into. In order to cover more ground, they split up briefly to interview some of the neighbors, asking if they had seen or heard anything unusual. By the time they reconvened, it was already well into the evening.  Shaw drove them back to the Inquisitor and they both retired to their desk, beginning to sort through the information they'd gathered, and Root hoped she'd forgotten what was said earlier.

 

“Let me see your notes,” Shaw said, pulling Root from her pesky thoughts. “I need to get the rest of the witness statements together.”

 

Root tossed the book across the table and watched as Shaw flipped through it. She came to a stop and furrowed her brow at one of the pages. “Something wrong?”

 

Shaw looked up to her before turning back to some of the papers on her desk. “You talked to the guy in 3B.”

 

“Is that bad?”

 

“At least half a dozen other officers have tried to take their statement, but he never seems to cooperate.”

 

Root tried to recall her conversation with the man. He seemed happy to share what he knew, stating that he'd seen someone unfamiliar in the building around the time of the incidents, and even gave a description of person.

 

“Maybe he doesn't like talking to cops?” Root supplied. Shaw gave a small nod.

 

“In any case, I'm going to head up and see about getting the building's security tapes from the guys in robbery. Those idiots probably don't even know where to look.” She promptly stood from her desk and headed up the stairs. Luckily there was quite the array of different officers here at the paper; robbery, narcotics, traffic, even just regular beat cops, so she shouldn't have any trouble getting the footage.

 

Now that she thought about it, Root actually wasn't clear on which division Shaw was part of. They went to investigate the break and enters, but the way she spoke of robbery team made it seem like she wasn't one of them.  The obvious solution to the mystery would be to _ask_ Shaw when she got back. Then again... she could always just look up her personnel file on the NYPD server.

 

Just a quick peek, of course.

 

It only took a few minutes to break through the security system and get the information she wanted: Shaw worked in homicide. Now would have been the time to close the file, but certain bits just jumped out at Root, drawing her back in... like the fact that she was born in Dallas, Texas, which is only a few hours from where Root was in Bishop. It also said that she worked as a medical physician? Oh, now _that_ was interesting.

 

Curiosity had clearly won this round and she continued to read about her dashing not-partner. Two years as a doctor in St. Louis, MO. Resigned in 2005 and went on to join the United States Marine Corps... A doctor _and_ a marine? She would have never guessed. Shaw made the rank of Gunnery Sergeant before joining the NYPD Homicide Task Force in 2012. And what was this about a personality disorder...?

 

Root must have been so distracted by reading the file that she didn't notice a shadow looming over her desk. It wasn't until she heard someone clearing their throat that she was startled away from her screen.

 

“Doing some light reading?” Root looked up at the woman. She was dark skinned, wearing a suit and a stern expression. It was obvious that this person was another one of the cops at the paper. If their gold shield didn't give it away, their face just screamed: 'look at me, I'm a cop!'

 

“N-No. I was actually just checking on, ah, case, that my partner and I are working on.” Root fumbled with her explanation, adjusting her glasses to peer up at the woman. She raised her eyebrows. “We're not _partners_ partners, of course. Just temporary colleagues, I guess.”

 

Her face remained a mask, not unlike Shaw's usually was, she thought. “You were looking at Shaw's file.”

 

Lying to cops was difficult, especially when literally being caught in the act, so she came clean. “Can you blame me?” She huffed, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. “I can't get anything out of her.”

 

Surprisingly, the woman's face softened, and she gave her a small smirk. “She's a tough nut to crack.”

 

An interesting development, maybe she could get something from this cop after all. The kind of information that _doesn't_ get put in the file. “Root,” she extended her hand.

 

She grasped it right away. “Carter,” they parted and she moved to take Shaw's seat across from her. “Funny, your name block says Robin Farrow.”

 

“It does, yeah,” she brushed some hair behind her ear. “Root is reserved for friends and enemies,” she joked, and the detective replied with another smile. Hook, line, and sinker.

 

They speak for several minutes, and she learned quite a bit through the detective. Although Shaw's primary role was in homicide, it seemed like she had something of a hero complex. Like her regular partner, a detective named John Reese, Shaw had a tendency to stray from her duties and take on cases that weren't really on her radar. Together they worked any case they came across, even ones that weren't exactly official and were dubbed the 'mayhem twins' because of their methods. Carter and Reese mostly tried to stay on their captain's good side, but Shaw seemed to butt heads with her often, which may explain why she got assigned to work in the basement during this little project.

 

“No offense,” Carter added.

 

“Oh, gosh.  None taken,” she waved her hand. “Shaw and Reese seem pretty close. Are they _close_ close?”

 

Carter gave her a look. “Didn't realize we were still in high school.”

 

“Sorry, I know,” she breathed a small laugh. “I was just curious about her... situation. I kind of, sort of, asked her out this afternoon. Accidentally.”

 

Carter's eyebrows shot up, and she leaned forward in her seat. “You accidentally asked Shaw out?” Root looked away, embarrassed. She was still trying to figure out what she would have done if Shaw responded in any way. “I'm surprised she didn't shoot you.”

 

She brought her gaze back up. “Is that... common?”

 

“More than you'd think,” she stood from the desk. “Shaw has strange rules when it comes to dating. It mostly boils down to 'I don't do relationships'.”

 

“Oh... okay. Yeah, that makes sense.” Root nodded.

 

She thought that would be the end of her little infatuation with the woman, but Carter added: “But you seem like a nice girl. Let me give you some advice for getting along with Shaw.”

 

Root eagerly leaned forward, her chin resting in her palms. She couldn't control the butterflies thundering around in her stomach as she listened to the detective.

 

Maybe this wasn't a hopeless mission after all.

 

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

 

Taking two stairs at a time, Shaw quickly made it up to the third floor, where she knew there was at least one member of the robbery squad that had been assigned to some boring reporter. Although, they weren't all bad, she supposed. At the beginning of the day, she would have said Root was the very definition of mild-mannered, but after seeing how she was able to get them into the target building, as well as get a statement from a key witness, maybe she wasn't so bad.

 

Which she would never say out loud, obviously.

 

She spotted her mark, detective Simon Crane, and groaned before approaching. Sure, he was incredibly handsome, charming, and a damn good cop, but Simon was also very clingy. He and Shaw worked one case together a while back and there had been some significant heat generated between the two. They even carried on with a brief tryst outside of the workplace, one that she considered purely physical, but later found out that he expected much more from her. She immediately broke things off (despite not being anything to break off, in her opinion.)

 

“Well, if it isn't the most beautiful detective in homicide,” he smiled with perfect white teeth when he noticed her. He was standing by the printer, presumably waiting for some papers.

 

“It's between John, Fusco, Carter, and myself, your options are pretty limited.” He laughed and she resisted a strong urge to roll her eyes. “Listen, I need the tapes from the B&E's downtown.”

 

Simon crossed his arms and took a step closer to her. “That the only reason you came to see me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He laughed out loud, clearly not realizing that she wasn't being funny. Unfortunately it didn't seeme like he wasn't taking the hint, and a smirk remained on his face. “The tapes are on lock down right now while we sort through. I _could_ give you access...”

 

Now she did roll her eyes. “In exchange for?”

 

“Have dinner with me.” He phrased it like a statement rather than a request. His confidence, which she previously found to be sexy, was getting on her nerves. Like she was just some piece of tail, swooning at his well-defined face... and body. Ugh.

 

“Pass.”

 

He started to talk again, but she waved her hand and walked back towards the stairs. She heard something about how great they'd been, blah blah. Whatever. She wished she would have been surprised that he would try and scam a date from her while she tried to do her _job_. She'd just have to figure out something else to solve this one.

 

Shaw made it back down to the basement and was surprised to see a fellow homicide detective at the desk talking with Root.

 

“You lost, Carter?”

 

“Just getting to know your new partner.”

 

“We're not--” Root began.

 

“She's not my partner,” Shaw took her seat across from Root. “Don't you have an old lady to help cross the street?”

 

Carter turned to Root and raised her eyebrows. “Good luck, honey.” Root smiled sheepishly and she walked back up the stairs. Honey? What the hell did she miss?

 

“Did you get the footage you needed?”

 

Shaw shook her head. “The loser wouldn't budge. I'll have to figure something out tomorrow.” She checked the display on her computer, 9:38pm, enough time to make it back to her place, have a drink or three, and call it a night. She stood from her desk and pulled the leather jacket from the back of her chair. “You taking the subway?”

 

Root looked up and held her gaze for several seconds. Her expression was soft, and Shaw wondered what exactly she was looking for. Eventually, the other woman shook her head. “I still need to finish a few things. I'll see you tomorrow?”

 

Shaw nodded and watched for a moment as Root's lips pulled up in a small smile. The reporter wasn't all that unpleasant to look at, Shaw decided. Behind dark framed glasses, her eyes were warm and welcoming. Shaw nodded again and turned to walk back up the stairs, aware of those brown eyes watching her leave. As she exited the Inquisitor and walked to the subway stop, Shaw pondered the two very different date requests she received today and tried to figure out which bothered her more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Simon" was originally going to be Tomas, but he's very douchey later on and I felt guilty. Tomas is probably a nice guy.  
> And the first draft had Reese instead of Carter, but the dialogue was too sassy for the man in the suit.
> 
>  
> 
> ShootWeek Day 2: Favorite Shaw Moment  
> 3x14 - Shooting the guy while casually having a drink at the bar.


	3. Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root uses some of her skills to crack the case.

 

 

 

Eager to solve the break and enters before Crane and his crew, Shaw decided she wanted to get an early start at the paper. She descended the stairs into the basement just after 7AM, and was surprised to see Root sitting at the desk with her eyes glued to the computer screen. Shaw hung her jacket on the back of her chair and sat across from the reporter.

 

“Didn't think you were such an early riser.”

 

“Huh?” Root groaned her reply, her voice incredibly hoarse.

 

Shaw tilted her head and took in the other woman's appearance: hair somewhat lacking in volume, glasses sitting low on her face, eyes red and beady, and if Shaw wasn't mistaken, wearing the same clothes as yesterday. “Have you been here all night?”

 

Root finally peeled her eyes away from the computer and blinked heavily before pushing her glasses upright. “Okay, promise you wont be mad or arrest me or something,” Shaw would make no such promise, but she waved her hand hoping Root would continue anyway. “I may have hacked into that apartment building's security system and downloaded the security footage from the robbery.”

 

Shaw didn't know what she expected Root to say, but it wasn't that. “You did what?”

 

“I know it's not the proper channel, or whatever,” Root paused and groaned softly. She dragged it out as if she enjoyed the raspy sound. “I know how badly you want to close this one.”

 

“And it took this long?”

 

She let out a small laugh and smiled, bearing her teeth. “Please, this isn't my first rodeo. The building's system is very old, and there was no seeking function on the video feed. I've been watching it in real time. I saw our man break into two apartments, and now we're waiting on the facial recognition software to give us a name and address.”

 

Shaw felt like her jaw had dropped to the ground. How the hell did this meek little _reporter_ manage to crack the case? She stood from the desk and walked over to Root's side, peering over her shoulder to look at the screen. Sure enough, security footage of the guy committing the crime was playing on loop, while a freeze-frame of his face was being scanned by the software.

 

“This is...” Shaw shook her head, bewildered. “This is really good.”

 

Root shrugged and folded her arms across her desk, laying her head in the crook of her elbow.

 

“How did you get access to the program we use to run faces?”

 

“If I told you that,” Root's reply was muffled by her arm. “Then you'd really have to arrest me.”

 

Despite herself, Shaw smiled. As soon as they had the location they could arrest the guy, recover the stolen items, and close the case before Robbery even finds the footage. Considering they were missing a key witness, having failed to get intel from the man in 3B, Shaw and Root were already way ahead of the game.

 

She looked up from the screen and saw John Reese approaching with a tray of hot beverages. He placed one cup down on Shaw's side of the desk and then another one beside Root's head.

 

“Black coffee for Shaw, and a double-shot macchiato for Root. Easy on the caramel drizzle, heavy on the whipped cream.”

 

Root's head sprang up at the words and she stared at the drink. “How did you...?” But John only shrugged in response.

 

Shaw rolled her eyes and went back to her seat, pulling the lid off the styrofoam cup, watching as Root did the same.

 

Root didn't waste any time getting her caffeine fix and she ended up with a significant amount of whipped cream on her nose. Ridiculous. Shaw and Reese shared a glance, but neither said anything until Root appeared to be nodding off again. Shaw nudged Reese, deciding that he should be the one to stop the other woman from making a mess when she face planted into her latte or whatever.

 

John reached out and touched her shoulder, earning a light groan from Root as she was seemingly unaware of the mess on her face. John cleared his throat and made a show of scratching his nose. After a moment she took the hint, using a tissue to clean the whipped cream while her face tinted red in embarrassment.

 

Once the awkwardness was (mostly) gone, Root stood from the desk and stretched deeply.

 

“Thanks for the coffee...?”

 

“John,” he extended his hand, which she shook.

 

“I'm going to go get cleaned up,” she looked to Shaw now, scooping up her coat as she spoke. “Would you call me once the computer gives us a name?”

 

“Why don't you just go home and sleep?” Shaw suggested, sipping her own drink.

 

Root scoffed. “And miss the arrest? That's the best part,” she stepped next to John who was intently watching their exchange.

 

Maybe it was her pleading eyes, or the fact that she was up all night solving this case, but Shaw reluctantly nodded. She was expecting Root to skip around with glee, but she just smiled that same smile she had last night, warm and open. She squeezed John's arm and took off up the stairs, he walked around to take her seat across from Shaw.

 

Even though she tried to busy herself with nonsense paperwork, she could feel his smug eyes watching her.  “Do I have something on my nose, too?”

 

John smirked, taking a small drink from his coffee. “I think Root's a little sweet on you.”

 

This was a conversation she did not want to have. Especially not at 7:30AM. “What makes you say that?”

 

“She told Joss as much,” Shaw rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her computer, hoping that the facial recognition would finish and save her from this stupid conversation.

 

“Great. You girls love to gossip, don't you?” She deadpanned.

 

“She's smart, pretty...”

 

“If you're so into her, maybe _you_ should date her. Besides, I don't—”

 

“You don't do relationships. I know,” John finally stood from his seat. “At least try being a little nicer to her? She did stay up all night doing _your_ job, after all.”

 

With that, he left to attend to his own reporter up on the second floor. Shaw huffed and took a healthy gulp of her coffee, now the ideal temperature, and mentally cursed Reese. Because of his and Carter's stupid meddling, she couldn't help think about how to be kinder to the pretty reporter.

 

Not that she thought Root was pretty.

 

Shaw shook her head. “Damn it.”

 

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

 

Shaw didn't have to wait much longer before the computer was dinging to indicate the program had found a match, in the meantime Shaw had been cleaning her service weapon. The suspect's name was Joseph Lamoureux, 32 years old, living in a small apartment down in Chelsea. Shaw wrote down the address and pulled her cellphone from her jacket pocket intending to summon Root, but she spotted her coming down the stairs.

 

“Did we get him?” She said as she walked up to Shaw. Although still looking beat, Root appeared to be more refreshed than earlier. Her long coat was in her arms, and she wore a blue button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and black pants. Shaw also noticed her glasses folded in the breast pocket.

 

“Yeah. I was just going to call you,” Root's smile lit up her eyes, which Shaw definitely did not notice, nor care about. Stupid John. “Let's go see if we can get a cruiser.”

 

Unfortunately all available police cars had been signed out already.  Shaw remained confident that the robbery squad still wasn't looking in the right direction. In fact, she heard one of the officers mention canvasing the area in Morningside Heights again. So they ended up taking the subway.

 

Of course, at 9AM the train was beginning to fill up so Shaw and Root were forced to sit next to each other, the cramped space meaning they were shoulder to shoulder. Root didn't comment, neither did Shaw and they both sat listening to the rumble of the metal train car.

 

The ride wouldn't be too long, she figured, and it's not like Lamoureux knew they were coming so there was no need to rush. Her eyes were fixed forward, focusing on the shoes of the person in front of her. They were brown—or maybe black, hard to say. Very dirty, she was certain, definitely old and—

 

Shaw suddenly felt a weight thud down on her left shoulder. Her body immediately tensed and she turned her head slowly, only to see that the culprit was Root. Evidently, the all-nighter caught up with her after all.  Shaw was about to nudge her upright and give an earful when she noticed Root's hands had also gone slack in her lap.  No harm in letting her get a few minutes of rest, she supposed.

 

As their train came to a stop, Root was jostled awake by the motion, a small 'oomph' escaping from her lips. She righted herself and rubbed her eyes, likely embarrassed by dozing off in public.

 

“Sorry Sameen,” she sighed, covering her mouth to stifle a yawn.

 

“It's—” Shaw paused as the train fully came to a stop. “It's okay. We're here anyway.”

 

 

 

 

 

/

 

 

 

 

 

Root was thankful that she had switched to more sensible shoes when she changed her clothes, otherwise the “short” walk from the subway stop to their final destination would have been awful. Ironically, Shaw's definition of short was anything but, and it took them over thirty minutes to reach the apartment. Once they arrived, Root suggested they take the elevator since their suspect lived up on the fifth floor, and Shaw agreed. It was just the two of them in the lift and Root tried to compare it to their first trip just yesterday. Shaw seemed to have more ease around her, if only a tiny bit, and she considered that a win.  She tried not to think about how warm and comfortable she'd been while sleeping on the detective's shoulder.

 

“Tell me the plan again,” she asked, trying to fill the silence and distract her from the fluttering of her stomach. Was it Shaw, or the fact that they were about to catch a perp? Definitely the second one.

 

Probably.

 

“We arrest 'em,” Shaw stated simply.

 

“But what if he runs?”

 

“We chase him.” Root's eyes widened slightly, Shaw paused and looked to her. “ _I_ chase him, _then_ arrest him.”

 

She nodded. “Okay, but what if—”

 

“Root,” the elevator opened and both women stepped out. “I'll handle it.”

 

Her confidence was helping to calm Root's nerves. She definitely felt safe with Shaw, but couldn't suppress a small shiver as they arrived at the door marked 5E.

 

Shaw knocked on the door. “NYPD, open up.”

 

She knocked several more times, but they heard nothing coming from inside. Shaw drew her service weapon and took a step back, and Root was certain she was about to kick the door open. “W-Wait!”

 

Root reached into her laptop bag and pulled out a small set of lock picks. Shaw gave her a look as she knelt in front of the door. “Root, why do you have those?”

 

“Well...” she shrugged.

 

“Never mind. Forget I asked.”

 

A quick minute later, the door clicked. Root put her kit back in the bag and stood, motioning to Shaw. “After you, detective.”

 

Shaw kept her gun forward and entered the apartment slowly, making sure each room and hallway were empty. Root followed close, trying to make as little noise as possible.

 

“He's not here,” Shaw holstered her weapon. “Let's see what we can find.”

 

For the next thirty minutes they split up and searched the small apartment, looking for any clues as to where he was, or if he was actually guilty. Root found a lock box on the very top of the fridge and Shaw discovered a large backpack in the closet, buried under clothes. They met back in the living area, Root worked to open the lock box and Shaw snapped on some latex gloves before examining the items in the bag.

 

“He's definitely our guy,” she said pulling out a few objects matching those reported stolen: a cellphone, tablet computer, various pieces of jewelry, and some cash. Root finally opened the box but it appeared to be empty. “Give it here.”

 

She handed the box to Shaw who immediately removed the inside tray, revealing a hidden compartment underneath. The detective sighed, and turned the box so Root could look inside. The bottom was littered with bullets.

 

“But we didn't find a gun anywhere.”

 

“Because he has it on him. This guy could be dangerous,” Shaw closed the lock box and placed it inside the backpack along with all the other stolen items, and slung it over her shoulder. “We should head back and sort this stuff out. Maybe get an APB going.”

 

Root nodded and they left together, heading outside and back towards the subway.

 

 

 

 

/

 

 

 

 

Once returning to the Inquisitor, Shaw had all the stolen goods spread across the desk, sticking evidence tags on each item, cataloging them, and putting them in bags. The whole thing seemed rather tedious, something about preserving evidence continuity, she had said..  Root watched while she updated her article with the recent developments.

 

The phone on Root's desk rang and the display indicated it was coming from Harold's office upstairs. She picked up the receiver and pinned it with her shoulder so she could still type. “Hi Harry.”

 

“ _Good-day, Robin. I trust things are going well with Detective Shaw?_ ”

 

“As well as expected,” she spared a glance over to the detective, who was now counting the cash they had. Interesting that she could be so captivating even while essentially doing nothing... Shaw halted her counting and looked up, staring back at Root for a moment before continuing to throw down the bills. “Just calling to check in or...?”

 

“ _I wanted to let you know that there is an office up on the third floor that's just become available, and I will be picking the new occupant sometime this week._ ”

 

“Oh.”

 

“ _Equal consideration will be given, of course, but if you can produce a quality story I have no doubt you can move above ground level._ ”

 

Root nodded. “I'll keep that in mind. Thanks Harry,” she placed the phone back on the cradle.

 

She shared the news with Shaw, who didn't seem to think the third floor was anything to brag about, but Root liked the idea of having an office to herself. Heck, she'd be happy with a window. Surprisingly, Shaw seemed to soften at the explanation. “As long as you don't fuck up the article, we'll get you there.”

 

“Thanks... I think.” Root's smile was lopsided.

 

Shaw responded with a smirk of her own, which was interrupted by her cell phone buzzing on the desk. She peered at the message and rolled her eyes. “Word must have got around that we recovered the stolen items. The guys in robbery invited us out for drinks tomorrow.”

 

Root's eyebrows shot up. “Us? As in... _both_ of us?”

 

“Is that a problem?”

 

Why would it be, Root thought to herself. Being in a casual setting with her beautiful not-partner, among all of her intimidating cop friends, making it impossible for Root to be comfortable in any way. All that after spending the day trying (with varying degrees of success) not to think about Shaw in a way that wasn't professional? What ordinary person would have a problem with that?

 

She breathed out a laugh, her nerves already buzzing.

 

“Not at all.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rather than go home to change, Root actually went to a nearby gym. She gets a free membership with the newspaper but never uses it, only keeping some clothes there just in case. It didn't make the cut because it didn't seem relevant.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Day 3: Favorite Root friendship:  
> Root's great with everybody, but if I had to pick one I'd say Fusco.


	4. Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw gives in to an impulse after Root has a little too much to drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

Finally having access to her car, Shaw was spared the train ride to the newspaper this morning, but in her haste to retrieve the vehicle from the body shop, she was forced to skip breakfast. So when she descended into the basement of the Inquisitor, she already felt a headache prickling her eyes. Root made it before she did, but this time it didn't look like she had stayed overnight.

 

“Shaw,” she stood from the desk and picked up her black coat. Today she was wearing a white blouse paired with a black vest and pants. Shaw continued to feel under-dressed in her jeans and t-shirt. “I found out where our thief works if you want to check it out today.”

 

Root held a piece of paper with an address written on it. Apparently, when not stealing shit, Joseph Lamoureux worked as a janitor on the upper west side. Close to where the robberies took place, and not terribly far from his home. Shaw opened her mouth to reply but her stomach decided to speak up instead, gurgling unpleasantly. Root breathed out a laugh.

 

“This coffee place on the corner makes a killer breakfast burrito, if you're interested. I was heading up there anyway.”

 

Shaw rubbed her stomach and eventually nodded, apparently not able to resist a burrito. “If you're already going...”

 

Root finished putting on her coat and smiled. “I'll be back in a jiffy. And don't worry, I'll make sure they hold the mayonnaise.”

 

“How in the hell...”

 

But Root had already skipped up the stairs. No doubt that idiot Carter had something to do with that.

 

Only a few minutes after, Shaw realized that she left some important paperwork in her car. She sighed, standing from the desk, not bothering with her jacket and ascended the stairs two steps at a time. When she pushed through the brown doors, she immediately spotted Root down the street. She looked to be in a rather intense conversation with a man Shaw didn't recognize. She watched as it appeared to become somewhat heated, and the man was grabbing her arm and leading her down the street.

 

One of two things could be happening: Shaw was completely misreading the heart-eyes Root had been making at her the last few days, and this mystery man was her boyfriend, or...

 

“Let go of me!”

 

She was about to be mugged in broad daylight.

 

“Crap,” Shaw took off after the pair as they disappeared into an alleyway. She rounded the corner but couldn't see either of them anymore. She raced down the narrow path when she heard Root cry out. “Crap, crap, crap.”

 

She heard more noises that sounded an awful lot like a scuffle, so when Shaw finally turned the corner she was not expecting Root to run right into her.

 

“Sameen,” Root breathed, holding on to the detective's shoulders. Shaw pushed herself forward so she could stand between Root and the perp.

 

“NYPD! Don't... move?” Shaw stopped reaching for her gun mid-way, seeing the man already lying face down on the ground. Root remained close behind her, tightly grasping the fabric of Shaw's shirt. “What happened?”

 

Only after Shaw had called John for backup and handcuffed the unconscious man had Root calmed down enough to explain: apparently he approached her on the street and asked for her wallet. Naturally he became aggressive when she refused and tried to drag her into the alley and force the issue. After receiving a right hook to the face, Root was able to subdue the guy using--

 

“A taser? You _tased_ him?” Root just nodded, somewhat sheepishly. In that case, she would have definitely escaped even if Shaw hadn't intervened. Seemed like Shaw should start giving Root more credit since the other woman continued to surprise her.

 

 

 

 

/

 

 

 

 

After John arrived and took the thug back to the station, Shaw escorted Root back to the Inquisitor. Even though she assured the other woman that she was fine, a little shaken, but fine, Shaw insisted on seeing to her injuries. She had a nose bleed from when the guy hit her in the face, and a small scrape on her cheek from the resulting contact with the pavement.

 

She and Shaw were in a small file room on the first floor of the paper, which was quite possibly the most crowded room available. Newspapers were stacked everywhere, along with bags of what Root assumed was unclaimed mail. Root sat on an old computer chair and held a handkerchief to her face while Shaw dug around for a first aid kit.

 

“Honestly, Shaw, my glasses are in worse shape than I am,” she lowered the cloth and wiggled her nose around. “You don't need to fuss.”

 

Shaw turned and narrowed her eyes at Root. “I don't fuss,” she made a circular motion with her finger and Root turned her head.

 

Root wasn't sure what to expect when it came to bedside manner, but she was surprising gentle when cleaning the dirt and blood from her cheek. Shaw held her chin to keep her from squirming, and the detectives hands were calloused and very warm.  The disinfectant stung, and Root hissed as the she continued to run the cloth over her small wound.  Eventually, she was satisfied with her work and dabbed the area with a dry cloth. Root tried to suppress it, but she felt her face flush at the care she was being given.

 

“That should be good for now,” Shaw closed up the first aid kit, and placed it back on the top of a filing cabinet.  "Try to keep it clean."

 

“Thanks, Sameen. Not just for this,” she gestured to her face. “But, I mean, coming to my rescue out there.”

 

Root stood up as Shaw turned to face her. “You handled yourself pretty well,” was Shaw paying her a compliment? Root must have hit her head harder than she realized.

 

Or maybe Shaw was starting to become more comfortable around her. After only a few days, her usually stern expression had become slightly softer, and more surprising, she had allowed Root to use her first name without scold. It felt like she had been given a privilege.

 

They stood together, both seemingly caught up in their own thoughts and Root couldn't help but wonder about what was going on behind those big, dark, eyes. Shaw looked away, rubbing the back of her neck.

 

“Listen, Root...” Shaw paused, but before she could finish the door to the small room opened, revealing Harold on the other side.

 

“Robin, thank goodness,” he sighed. “I heard what happened.”

 

“Relax, Harry,” she waved her hand. “Everything's fine.”

 

Shaw turned to leave. “I'll catch up with you later,” it seemed like her earlier thoughts were forgotten. “I'm... glad you're okay.”

 

Harold insisted that she take the rest of the day off since she went through something so traumatic, but she would have much preferred to stay and keep working. She eventually agreed, if only to stop his nagging, and headed home. Root spent some time updating her article, before relaxing in front of the television.

 

It's remarkable how quickly time passes when you're glued to a screen, computer or otherwise, and Root was startled several hours later when her phone buzzed with a message from Shaw.  She had almost forgot about going for drinks later.

 

SHAW:

_u still coming tonight?_

 

ROOT:

_Sure. What time should I meet you there?_

 

SHAW:

_I'll come get u. Be ready for 9_

 

How chivalrous, she thought.

 

ROOT:

_Can't wait. :-)_

 

Sure enough, there was a knock on her door at 8:56PM, which she could safely assume was Shaw. Root had spent most of the time since receiving her message getting cleaned up, deciding on a blue dress that wasn't too casual or revealing. She would be lying if she didn't very much enjoy the way Shaw's eyes widened slightly as she opened the door.

 

“Oh good, you're here,” she waved the other woman inside. “Could you give me a hand with something?”

 

“Now?”

 

“It'll take two seconds,” she gathered her hair to one side and turned her back to Shaw. “Zip.”

 

Root waited but nothing happened for several seconds. She turned her head and caught Shaw staring at her bare back, then trying (unsuccessfully) to look anywhere else. Shaw seemed to recover and Root faced forward again. She grinned and bit her bottom lip, practically feeling the awkwardness when Shaw yanked the zipper up as fast as she could.

 

“You need to start dressing down a little. You're starting to make me look bad,” Shaw gestured to her own typical attire; dark jeans, navy t-shirt, and leather jacket. “At least the glasses keep your geek factor pretty high.”

 

Root grabbed her coat and together they stepped into the hall. “I couldn't make you look bad if I tried.”

 

The car ride was mostly quiet.  Shaw told her that she tried to visit their perp's workplace, but his employers hadn't seen him in several days.  They also admitted that he was not at work at the time the robberies took place, which made their case even stronger. Shaw agreed to send her a transcript of their interview to pull some quotes for her story.

 

Root had plenty of things on her mind as they walked up to the bar: How to act around off-duty police officers, appropriate conversation topics, social faux pas' to avoid. Unfortunately everything flew from her mind when she felt Shaw's hand on the small of her back.

 

“It's slippery,” she'd said when Root turned to her. Just being cautious of her falling on the ground, then.  Definitely nothing to read into.  Shaw's hand sure was warm, though... Root tried to push it from her mind as they arrived, but the gesture turned her mind into jell-o.

 

Introductions were made soon after arriving: John Reese and Lionel Fusco from homicide, Simon Crane from robbery, Devon Grice from narcotics, and Captain Moreno.  She didn't see Carter anywhere, but John explained that her son was sick, so she stayed home. The captain pulled Shaw aside while Root ordered a Manhattan, watching as the boys alternated between beer and liquor.

 

“Moreno wants to talk to me,” Shaw sighed. “Do you mind? Shouldn't take long.”

 

“Not at all.”

 

So Root took the time to make small talk with the rest of the detectives. Fusco first worked with John a few years ago, then Shaw shortly after. Divorced, one son, he seemed like a descent guy. Grice trained with Shaw for several years before ending up with the narcotics crew, which he enjoyed very much. Lots of homicides involved drugs, so he and Shaw still collaborated from time to time. Simon, who appeared to be very intoxicated, told Root that he was a thief himself before turning his life around. She suspected that may not have been the truth.

 

“Hey! You,” Crane gestured vaguely with this now empty shot glass. Root pointed to herself. “Yeah, you. _Clark Kent_ ,” he laughed at his own joke. “Shots, baby.”

 

Root wasn't a heavy drinker, and shots were definitely not her thing, but she didn't want to seem out of place. She picked up one of the small glasses, Simon took another one and clanged it against hers, and together they drank the awful liquid. Root tried not to make a face, but it burned unpleasantly.

 

“Yeah! All right!” He took another glass from the bar and motioned for her to do the same. It tasted worse the second time. He immediately grabbed another glass, thankfully not encouraging her again... yet.

 

“ _Oohhh_ Sameeeen,” Simon cried drunkenly. “My delicate flower, why do you shun me so.”

 

What the hell...?

 

“I saw you,” he continued. “You came in with her, _Nancy Drewww_.”

 

“It's Root...?”

 

“I don't _care_ ,” he knocked back another shot, Root had half a mind to do the same. “Listen, listen, listen, listen, listen. Come here,” against her better judgment, Root leaned closer. Luckily no one else seemed to be paying any attention. “Shaw is really hot.”

 

Never mind. It wasn't lucky at all. “I know.”

 

“You _know_!” He leaned back, laughing, swaying in his seat. “She doesn't care about _anyyy_ thing, did you know _that_? No feelings at all. It's so... not... _nor_ mal?”

 

Root didn't think it was possible, but this unfortunate conversation was getting worse by the minute. How did she get stuck talking to this guy alone? She took another shot from the counter and gulped it down, hoping it would help.

 

(It didn't.)

 

“I disagree,” her words were somewhat slurred. “I think that is pre _cisely_ what makes her beautiful.”

 

He slid his arm across the table and tapped his glass against hers. Weird, her glass was full again.

 

“You're way off,” together they drank again, Root was starting to feel woozy. “Girl like Shaw is only good for her body.”

 

It was such a _man_ thing to say, Root thought. Regardless of the fact that he was obviously intoxicated, she didn't appreciate how he was talking about Shaw. Under normal circumstances she might have walked away from this conversation, but she felt so tingly and... confident? Come to think of it, she was starting to feel great! Like she could stand up to this... this... _guy!_

 

“It must be so hard for you men to work with such a strong, intelligent woman,” she threw back another shot, no longer feeling the burn. _“_ Pretty emasculating, huh?”

 

His entire demeanor shifted at the words, and he no longer looked like a charming detective. In fact, he looked a little angry.

 

“What did you say?”

 

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

 

 

Captain Moreno took up more time than Shaw would have liked, but it's not like she could blow off her captain.  Well, she _could_ , but she shouldn't. She felt guilty for leaving Root, especially given the ordeal earlier today, but John was to be keeping an eye on her. Two whiskey's later, the captain was still giving her shit for interrupting the case assigned to robbery.  Blah Blah... didn't she know that she and Root had solved it already?  She saw Fusco approach, hopefully to save her from the conversation.

 

“Shaw, your girlfriend is getting into some hot water.”

 

There were so many things wrong with that sentence, she didn't know where to begin.  He gestured with his glass of club soda, and sure enough, Root appeared to be in a shouting match with none other than Simon Crane.

 

“Great.”

  

 

 

/

 

 

 

 

“Shut up, you bitch!”  The detective was dangerously close to invading her personal space as he shouted.

 

“A woman disagrees with a man and _instantly_ she's a bitch,” she clapped her hands in front of his face mockingly. “Very _ori_ ginal, detective.”

 

Simon opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly John appeared and held on to the detective's shoulder, pulling him away from Root. “Easy there, tough guy.”

 

“John? Where did you come from?” Root asked while she pushed her glasses up. “And why are you... spinning?”

 

And then Shaw was there too. “What the hell is going on here?” She gave Root a once-over and furrowed her brows. “Damn it, John, you were supposed to watch her.”

 

“I don't need a babysitter Sam _een_.”

 

“You're drunk.”

 

“ _You're_ drunk,” Root couldn't help giggle at Shaw's cute frowny face.

 

“ _Shaw!_ ” Simon interjected. “Your friend is a dick!”

 

“Shut up,” Shaw grabbed Root's elbow. “We're leaving.”

 

John started to guide Simon to a different exit. “Let's go get some air, detective.”

 

Before Root knew it, Shaw had led her outside, the night breeze refreshing Root's otherwise droning senses. She sat on the curb with her chin resting in the palm of her hand, perfectly content to watch Shaw hail a cab.

 

“You're _really_ pretty.”

 

Root grinned at Shaw's exasperated sigh.

 

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

 

Once they arrived at Root's building, it took Shaw sixteen minutes to drag her drunk ass from the cab and up to the apartment. They staggered down a hallway that seemed to go on forever, Root's arm draped over her shoulder, her lanky limbs not complying with their movements. Their significant height difference made it a challenge, but Shaw managed. How did she get so plastered so fast? Damn lightweight journalist.

 

“H _ey_ this looks like my hallway,” Root slurred, finally recognizing the area. “That's my d _oor_!” She excitedly pointed to the 4A. She untangled herself from Shaw and leaned her face against the wood.

 

“Where are your keys?” Shaw asked.

 

Root didn't say anything, but began humming into the door.  Shaw sighed, and Root spun around face her instead. “Your friends are not nice, Sameen.” Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with both hands. “ _Craaap_ , sorry! I keep forgetting! You prefer Shaw. Sh _aaaaw_.”

 

“It's fine.”

 

“I can't help myself,” Root began, her voice loud. So loud. “Sam _een_ is a beautiful name, and and, you are _such_ a beautiful girl, I can't think str _aig_ ht sometimes,” she lost herself to a bout of giggles, while Shaw rolled her eyes.

 

“Root, enough. Get your keys.”

 

She fished around in her coat pockets before finally producing the keys, she held them in her palm and stared for several minutes.

 

“I should go inside,” Root said, yet made no effort to move, seemingly transfixed by the shiny object in her hand.

 

Since Root would probably stand there until she passed out, Shaw took them from her open hand, intending to use them on the door. Luckily Root apparently understood, and stepped to the side to allow Shaw to see the lock, but what she _didn't_ seem to understand was the concept of personal space, and she remained close enough that Shaw could smell the alcohol on her breath. Honestly.

 

Once the door had been unlocked, she turned so she was now face to face with her drunk companion in the door frame. Shaw held the keys back out to Root, and when she didn't move to take them, Shaw took her hand and set them inside.

 

“I should go inside,” she said again, slowly this time. “I feel warm.”

 

“Getting tanked will do that. Take two Aspirin and drink a glass of water before you go to bed.”

 

Root nodded and leaned forward, for a second Shaw thought she might be losing her balance again, so she held her arms at the ready. Surprisingly, however, Root lightly grasped her shoulders and leaned down to kiss her. It wasn't a sloppy mess, as one might expect from kissing a drunk person and, though probably due to the alcohol, Root's lips were warm, and they tasted sweet. Against Shaw's better judgment, she returned the kiss while she held on to Root's middle.

 

To keep her from falling, of course.

 

Shaw was aware that Root had developed something of a crush, but perhaps it ran deeper than she realized. More troubling was the fact that Shaw didn't particularly _dislike_ this turn of events. Sure, Root could be a little over zealous at times, annoying, and dorky, but maybe those qualities were more endearing rather than a detriment. She had also proven herself to be very capable, resourceful, and intelligent. Not to mention she was pretty easy to look at.

 

Their lips eventually parted, and Root proceeded to wrap her arms across Shaw's back, pulling her in for a very firm hug. Her mouth close to Shaw's ear, Root whispered: “Thanks for getting me home safe.”

 

With that, she released her an entered the apartment without another word. She supposed it was _possible_ that the kiss was just a drunken colleague acting out, and she shouldn't think too much about it. Even so, as Shaw stood looking up at the 4A, she couldn't help think about kissing Root again. A lot.

 

Crap.

 

She reached up and lightly touched her fingertips to her lips. This situation got more complicated the more she thought about it. Shaw had rules about “dating”, and the fact that she was even entertaining the idea was absolutely absurd. But Root was definitely different than her usual conquests.

 

As she walked down the hall and back towards the cab, Shaw had some troubling thoughts regarding the reporter. Most concerning off all, Shaw decided, was that if Root asked her out again she might find herself saying yes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> ShootWeek Day 4: Favorite Shaw friendship  
> Like Root, Shaw is great with almost everyone. I'll go with Fusco again.


	5. Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw makes a decision regarding Root, and the pair finally encounters the thief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 & 6 are going to escalate a bit. Buckle up.

 

 

Shaw arrived at the newspaper the next day after finally deciding that _she_ would be the one to ask Root out, not the other way around. She had spent all night dealing with fleeting thoughts of Root, none of which unpleasant. Unfortunately, when it came to her journalist friend ( _friend?_   Ugh), her only confidence came from either drinking, or successfully pulling the wool over someone, so Shaw didn't feel like waiting until Root got the courage to try again.

 

So her mission was simple: ask Root out on a date which will hopefully lead to more kissing and some other extracurricular activities. After all, Shaw was curious about what Root's lips were like without being tainted by alcohol.

 

She noticed Simon waiting at the bottom of the stairs, effectively dampening her mood.

 

“Sameen,” he greeted her with his charming smile.

 

(She liked it better when Root said it.)

 

She walked down the rest of the way. “Need me to solve another case for you?”

 

“About that...” he motioned for her to follow him towards the printer a few steps away. It was situated in the corner, blocked off by a glass wall, she could see almost the whole basement still, including Root who looked to be on the phone. She didn't appear to be suffering ill effects from last night, however she was wearing sunglasses while indoors. “I didn't get a chance to congratulate you. Great work closing that case.”

 

She shrugged. “You were pretty busy drinking. Besides, job's not done yet, the guy's still loose.”

 

“Let's get him together, then,” he stepped into her personal space, taking her hand in his.

 

She immediately pulled her hand back, her face twisted. “We have it handled.”

 

“The guy could be dangerous. You need me.”

 

Shaw rolled her eyes, gaze falling back to Root, who was now standing while speaking on the phone. The woman had somehow managed to tangle herself in the phone's curly cord without realizing it, perhaps pacing while absorbed in the conversation. She looked silly, Shaw thought, and she allowed herself a brief smile at Root's expense.

 

Simon made a noise in front of her. “My god... you _are_ interested in her, aren't you?” He pointed towards Root. “As hot as that is, you know she's crazy, right?”

 

Quick to come to her defense, Shaw scoffed. “You come to that conclusion yesterday when you guys were doing shots? She isn't crazy.”

 

“Well she's definitely an airhead. I mean, look at her.”

 

Despite currently being tangled in her own telephone cord, Shaw knew her to be very intelligent. In any case, it was about time her conversation with Simon ended.

 

“Root is smarter than you'll ever be. She may be just a mild-mannered reporter, but don't forget that she solved _your_ case in a few _days_ ,” she held her hand out before he could respond. “I think there's some purse snatchings that need your attention. Do me a favor, and stop bothering us,” and with that she walked away.

 

Shaw stepped into the bullpen and approached her desk, shedding her jacket and placing down her keys and gun. Root just finished her phone conversation and placed the receiver down on the cradle, finally noticing that she somehow tied herself up.

 

“Hi Shaw,” she huffed, pulling the cord up over her head. Root also had to adjust her sunglasses, having knocked them askew trying to free herself. Shaw wished she didn't find it so... cute. At the same time, her navy pencil skirt and blazer was incredibly flattering. Talk about a girl that could do both. Her conversation with Simon already forgotten.

 

Shaw wasn't sure how to approach the current situation. John would probably tell her not to be so _hammer time_ , whatever that meant, but finesse could get very awkward.  She tried to be direct. “Can I talk to you?”

 

“Is this about last night?” Root's expression fell slightly, and she pulled the shades from her face. “Look, I'm really sorry about how I acted,” Shaw had crossed her arms, now having to wait for this nonsense ramble to be over. “I shouldn't have...”

 

“Got shit-faced and then try to stick your tongue down my throat?” Shaw supplied.

 

“That's... one way of putting it,” Root pushed some hair behind her ear. “Anyway, it was completely inappropriate. And I would hate for it to affect our working relationship.”

 

“Yeah, about that,” Shaw hesitated for a second before Root's computer starting making a strange sound. “...the hell is that?

 

“Oh, that's the alert I set for Lamoureux.  One sec, Shaw,” Root turned to her computer and quickly typed a few commands. It queued up a map of New York and a red marker blinked like a GPS tracker which, she assumed, would lead them to their thief. Once again, Root had surprised her with computer skills, and managed to track down the suspect in their case. How did she even do her job before she met Root?  Shaw shook her head and looked over the reporter's shoulder at the screen.

 

“He's... right down the street? Is this accurate?”

 

Root gave her a look for doubting her skills. “I told you, that coffee place has great breakfast.”

 

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Fuck, we need to grab him,” she quickly walked towards the stairs with Root in tow and soon they were on the street heading towards their mark.

 

Having transferred the location data to her phone, Root immediately spotted Lamoureux as he stepped out of the coffee shop on the corner. Unfortunately, being a journalist and not a _cop_ , she made the mistake of pointing and saying: “There he is!”, instantly alerting him.

 

The perp fled as soon as he realized he'd been made, of course. “Stay here!” Shaw ordered as she started towards him.

 

“But...!”

 

“I'm serious, Root!” Shaw gave chase when he took off down another street. Shaw worried that she'd lost him when she turned the corner to find the street empty, but he reappeared from the shadows and bulldozed into her. They tumbled over a fruit stand, and Shaw would have to wait until later before she could appreciate the ridiculousness of there being an _actual fruit stand_ in the way.

 

She tried to use the momentum to roll upright quickly, but her opponent apparently had the same idea, and soon they were facing each other with their fists raised. They surveyed one another before he made the first move, flicking his fist towards Shaw. She raised her own arm to parry just in time, his fist grazing over her forearm. Unfortunately, she may have underestimated his speed, as he was able to throw his other fist into her abdomen. The sudden shock caused her to jerk her body forward, giving him good position on her, and he used it to take a handful of her hair, and punch her abdomen several more times. His striking hand eventually settled on her waist, and he swung her body hard to the right.

 

Shaw was thrown through a glass door, shattering it as she passed through. The impact, combined with her earlier hits, and the various cuts from the door itself left her feeling quite winded. She could feel the burning sensation on her forehead, likely coming from a cut as she managed to come up to her hands and knees. Evidently, she remained on the ground for a second too long, it gave her assailant the chance to enter the room and bring his knee up against her face. Shaw's head was thrown back, but she sprang onto her hands immediately, spitting blood onto the concrete floor.

 

Again he seemed to be getting the jump on her, she felt his arm across her neck as he hauled Shaw fully to her feet, and his other hand was applying pressure on the back of her head. A sleeper hold? What a bitch, she thought, wishing she hadn't left her gun back on her desk.

 

Nevertheless, dark spots prickled her vision and she knew that within moments she would be unconscious. Not one to be above fighting dirty at this point, she jammed her fist back into his groin, almost reveling in the whimper that it produced. It gave her the opportunity to spin around to face him again.

 

He wildly threw a punch with his right hand, leaving his side exposed. She easily evaded and raised her leg to slam her foot against the open area under his shoulder, effectively sending him towards the ground. Wanting to end this brawl as soon as possible, Shaw kept the pressure on, and started towards him again.

 

But he had other ideas. Apparently having helped himself to a large pipe while he was down, the assailant recovered and swung it hard across as he stood. Luckily Shaw dropped in time to avoid another hit, though she heard the metal ripping through the air above her. Once again taking advantage of his undisciplined fighting, she ran her shoulder into him and brought them both down to the ground.

 

Now it was finally time for her to have the upper hand. She straddled the Lamoureux, holding the collar of his shirt with one hand and brought her other fist down hard against his face. After four solids hits, and several flecks of blood staining her knuckles, she was hoping he would yield or at least pass out, but it was not her day it seemed. He managed to grasp the pipe again and swung in a large arc as he lay on the ground, striking Shaw in her middle, throwing her down once more.

 

As she lay on the cold floor, her arm came across to hold her own body, having to gasp for breath. Shaking her head clear of the fog that formed after the impact, she tried to stand and face her attacker again, but only managed to raise herself to a kneel. Hearing the distinct sound of metal falling against concrete, she looked up at Lamoureux. He'd abandoned his weapon and drew a gun that he apparently had this entire time.

 

“Sameen!”

 

She spun her body to see Root standing in the now broken doorway, eyes wide. She wanted to scold her for following the chase and putting herself in danger, but all she managed was: “ _Get_ _out_ of here!”

 

Lamoureux must have raised his gun, and the next thing she saw was Root diving out of sight as it fired. That was the last straw, Shaw decided.

 

She turned back to her attacker, and helped herself to the pipe that lay abandoned as his feet. Shaw swung the weapon at his legs, sweeping his feet out from under him and causing him to fall hard on his back. Shaw tried to stand at her full height, but the pain in her abdomen caused her to nearly fold in half, however she was still able to step over her opponent. The gun had clattered to the ground, and Shaw used her legs to pin the man's arms to the ground. At the same time, she lay the pipe across his throat, and pressed it hard towards the floor.

 

He groaned and tried to fight back, but she could see his eyes dimming as she bore down on him, trying to use all her weight to keep him from breaking free. After a few seconds, his eyes finally shut and his body stopped moving. She lifted the pipe right away and touched her index finger to his neck. She didn't intend to kill him, and was pleased to learn that he was, for the moment, still alive.

 

Shaw rolled off him and crawled to a nearby wall to rest against, making sure to pick up his gun as she passed it. She was panting heavily and sat while holding her abdomen, annoyed that the fight got out of hand. Her eyes fluttered closed for a second, or maybe a minute, but flew open again when she heard glass crumpling. She was halfway to raising her gun hand when she realized it was just Root coming back in. Her face was more pale than usual as she tried to piece together what exactly happened. She took tentative steps towards Shaw, who grimaced as she lowered her arm back down.

 

“Shaw... ” Root gasped as she came to kneel in front of her. “Are you all right?”

 

“ _Dandy_. Thanks for...” she paused, out of breath. “...asking.”

 

Now that her adrenaline was slowing down, Shaw could start to feel the pain that was inflicted on her. In addition to ribs likely being broken, her face felt slick with blood and she was starting to think that she'd suffered a broken nose too. Her breathing had continued to be very labored, and her remaining strength was being used towards making sure she kept up. In and out, in... and out. Her head felt heavy.

 

“Help is on the way.”

 

Root's hands were on her face, keeping her from falling forward. Shaw's eyes wouldn't focus for more than a few seconds, but she definitely saw concern in her friends eyes.

 

She heard Reese calling to them: “Shaw? Root?” It was far away, like she was under water and he was away on the shore. Shaw blinked hard trying to clear her vision but it was to no avail. Soon she noticed a ringing in her ears, growing louder by the second.

 

“We're in here!” Root yelled towards the exit.

 

The last thing Shaw could see before losing consciousness was the dark blur of Reese running through the door.

 

 

 

 

/

 

 

 

 

Both Reese and Carter showed up to help with the Lamoureux situation. Carter agreed to arrest the suspect once he was conscious, while John and Root rode with Shaw in the ambulance. Seeing Shaw on the ground with a bloody face was a little scary, but luckily she had John to assure her that their friend had seen much worse. She was even starting to regain consciousness as they drove into the hospital.

 

Once they arrived, Root noticed that Captain Moreno had made the trip down as well, and couldn't help feel relief that Simon was nowhere to be seen. The doctor assessed Shaw quickly, saying that in addition to some cuts and bruises, two of her ribs had been broken, as well as a small break in her nose. Aside from needing to take it easy for a few days, she would recover fully. Captain Moreno made a comment about her probably not resting as much as she should, which Root thought was very endearing.

 

The captain left shortly after speaking with Shaw, and even John had spent a few minutes in her room. Carter, who arrived shortly afterwards, joined Reese inside, no doubt relaying details on the case. This left Root to sit and wonder if she should go in too, or head back to the Inquisitor.

 

Luckily, the two detectives came out of the room and the decision was made for her. “Good, you're still here,” Carter had said. “Shaw wants to talk to you. She's about ready to get out of here, so we're going to find the doctor to get the discharge papers.”

 

She felt her face flush, and John gave her a tap on the shoulder before walking down the hall. Telling herself that there was really no need to be nervous, Root took a deep breath and stepped through the door.

 

Shaw was pulling her shirt down and Root could see the significant amount of bandage work across her ribs. She groaned from the effort, her left hand coming across to hold her body as she slowly sat back down on the edge of her bed. Shaw also had stitches on her hairline, and a white bandage over her nose.

 

“Still think I'm pretty with my face all fucked up?” Shaw gestured to herself.

 

Root's eyebrows shot up. “Are you... medicated?”

 

“Yes,” she nodded, the motion causing some obvious discomfort. Shaw reached up and held her nose for a moment. “Very.”

 

She sat beside Shaw on the bed, one leg folded so she could face her directly. “You had me pretty worried out there.”

 

Shaw turned to look at her, eyes still somewhat foggy. “'Had it completely under control.”  They sat in silence together for a few minutes until Shaw finally spoke again. “Carter showed me her notes on Lamoureux. The idiot confessed, so we can finally close this one.”

 

“That's a relief,” and Shaw's eyes continued to pierce deep into her own. Root doesn't remember having such sustained eye contact before, and there was such intensity that she felt like she had to look away.

 

And yet, she could not.

 

There was something so pure about Shaw's dark eyes. Not for the first time since it happened, Root's thoughts drifted to the kiss they shared just last night, and inadvertently licked her lips. She wondered if Shaw thought about it, too.  Shaw's gaze momentarily flicked down before looking away. She opened her mouth, poised to speak, but ended up just sighing.

 

“You sure you're okay?” Root tentatively reached out with her hand and rested it atop the other woman's shoulder.

 

The room door opened and John walked in, pushing a wheelchair in front of him. “Ready to go?”

 

Shaw narrowed her eyes in protest at the wheelchair.  She seemed flustered, but Root figured it was likely due to the medication throwing her off balance.

 

Through gritted teeth, Shaw slowly stood from her position, and Root got up as well, prepared to steady her if need be. While in surprisingly close proximity, Shaw looked to her. “I think I'd prefer it if you took me home next time.”

 

Root followed Shaw with her eyes as she walked a few steps and slowly sat in the wheelchair. “I don't have a car, Shaw.”

 

The response was simply a raised eyebrow. Root looked to John but he was suppressing a smile of his own. Clearly she was missing something here. How was Root supposed to take Shaw anywhere without--oh.

 

_Oh._

 

“Subtle,” Reese mumbled as he began to push Shaw from the room. “Joss will give you a lift when you're ready, Root.”

 

And the two were gone before she could fully process the detective's words.

 

What the hell just happened?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I had a scene where Root went to speak with the perp, threatening him if he didn't confess. I took it out because I felt that newsboy Root might be too scared to talk to the guy, never mind stick a needle in him.  
> Root always beats Shaw to the Inquisitor because she has a motorcycle rather than a car.
> 
> Tune in tomorrow for the stunning conclusion.
> 
> ShootWeek Day 5: Incorrect quotes.  
> Please direct your attention to the wonderful @poi_as_shows twitter account.


	6. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root is rewarded for her hard work (in more ways than one).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's time we earn that T rating.

 

 

Having spent the rest of the evening completing and submitting her story for the Friday edition of the Inquisitor, Root was looking forward to returning to work and seeing how Shaw was recovering. Thankfully, writing the article helped distract her from everything that happened in the last few days, and kept her from thinking about... things. Mostly, it helped her avoid scolding herself for being so naive regarding the detective's words. Of course _taking someone home_ didn't mean actually transporting them home. It was like, staying for a nightcap, or Netflix and chill, right? Or the detective could have been so medicated that her words carried no meaning at all.

 

Regardless, she fully intended to clarify, certainly not willing to miss her chance to score with Shaw. Root smiled to herself.

 

Plus, she wanted a date, too.

 

Upon arriving, however, she was disheartened to see that Shaw's side of the desk was packed away in a box. She peered inside to see the detective's files, police scanner, and a small medal she hadn't noticed earlier. The end of the joint operation with the NYPD must have crept up on her.  Root sighed, but was quickly startled when the latest issue of the Inquisitor was slapped on her desk. She let out a loud yip and turned to see none other than Sameen Shaw.

 

“Page three?” She exclaimed. “I got my ass kicked for _page three_?!”

 

Root knew what she was talking about right away. Harold decided that her article about tracking down a dangerous criminal with NYPD's finest (cleverly titled _To Catch a Thief_ ) would sit on the third page of their paper. Though not front-page material in general, she also had to compete with a fire in a nearby oil refinery, which was clearly the bigger news.

 

“Did you see the four-alarm fire on page one? Your ass is--” she stopped when Shaw gave her a look. “Never mind. We can't compete with that.”

 

The detective rolled her eyes, obviously doing well considering the aforementioned ass kicking. The bandage on her nose was slightly smaller, and some of the redness around her eyes had gone away.  They stood with each other for a few minutes, seemingly comfortable again. Despite butterflies in her stomach, Root was prepared to seize the opportunity.

 

“I wanted to ask you about something you said yesterday,” Root began, shifting her glasses. “In the hospital?”

 

Shaw nodded. “I think I was a little out of it.”

 

“Right, yeah. Of course,” she stammered. “You asked me to take you home. Which I thought you meant literally, but I got the feeling that you...” Root looked to the detective, hoping she wouldn't have to finish, but Shaw just raised her eyebrows. She seemed to be enjoying the awkwardness with which Root was speaking. She cleared her throat before continuing. “But, I-I see now that you didn't _mean_ it like that. You were on medication, and totally out of it, like you said. You probably don't even remember.”

 

“Oh, I remember.”

 

“You... do?” Shaw smiled in a way that reminded Root of a predator going in for the kill. It was a little scary, but at the same time she was drawn to the danger of it. “What exactly did you mean, then?”

 

Shaw crossed her arms, leaning her hip against Root's desk. “How about we get together later and I'll show you exactly what I meant.” Root's face turned the same shade of red as her shirt “Unless you...?”

 

“No! I-I mean,” she took a second to collect herself. In her defense, she had been thinking about this almost all week. “I would like that.”

 

Shaw nodded. “Great. Listen I have to take care of something, but I'll meet you back here?” Root nodded and Shaw collected the box, preparing to leave. She stopped when she saw Harold approaching.

 

“Robin, Detective Shaw, I'm glad I caught you both.”

 

“I was just leaving, Finch.”

 

He reached out and touched the detective's shoulder. “I just need a moment of your time.”

 

For Shaw's gallant efforts in apprehending a dangerous thief, as well as a potential mugger, Harold offered her a free one-year subscription to the Inquisitor. He felt bad that she had been seriously injured while working a case, and also congratulated her on what he assumed was good police work.

 

“Thank you for looking after my niece,” he said, stretching out his hand. Shaw grasped it without a word. “That reminds me,” Harold reached into his blazer pocket and produced a small key.

 

“What's that for?” Root asked.

 

“Why, this is for you, Robin. For _your_ efforts in helping bring a criminal to justice, I'm pleased to grant you the third floor office.”

 

Root blinked, certain she had misheard. She looked to Shaw who nodded. “Congratulations.”

 

She took the key from Harold, examining it before smiling at her boss. “Thank you, Harry.”

 

Harold arranged to have some boxes brought to pack her belongings. Shaw apologized for not being able to help, but reminded Root of her promise to return later.  Root took the time to pack everything from her life working in the basement, but before she took the trip upstairs, she was stopped by some colleagues offering to buy her lunch to celebrate. Though eager to move, she agreed.

 

A few hours later. with a box of her supplies in hand, Root took tentative steps into her brand new office. Spacious, open, with light (actual _light_ ) coming in from the two windows... she could get used to life on the third floor. A large desk in front of the window, plenty of file cabinets, even a couch for her to relax? She set the box down on the desk next to the engraved _Robin Farrow_ name block, and took a moment to look out the window. Everything seemed to be moving slowly, quietly. From up here she couldn't hear the hustle and bustle normally present in the basement, it was oddly calming. A knock at her door drew her attention, and she was surprised to see Shaw standing in the entry way.

 

“Hey Sam,” she stepped away from the window.

 

“Nice digs,” Shaw walked forward, glancing around and gave her nod of approval. Root came around to sit on the edge of her own desk, noticing that Shaw carried something in her hand. It was some kind of long rectangular block, Root gestured to it but Shaw only shrugged. “Housewarming.”

 

She tapped it against the palm of her hand before holding it out. Unsure what to expect, Root took the block and turned it over. It was identical to the one currently sitting on her desk, except it read _Root_. Tears suddenly welled in her eyes. No one had ever really recognized or appreciated her chosen name until she met Shaw. It made her heart swell with affection.

 

“Sameen, this is so lovely,” she managed, running her fingers over the engraving. “You shouldn't have.”

 

“I wanted to,” she put her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “And I wanted to make sure we're clear on something.”

 

Root put the block down behind her and nodded, smoothing the fabric of her skirt. Unsure what Shaw might be getting at, she gave the detective her full attention. “Look Root, relationships normally aren't my thing,” she began, taking a step closer... then another. “But a few days ago I realized something: you aren't exactly normal, are you?”

 

“I don't...” Root began, but whatever she wanted to stay fled her mind as Shaw began to seriously invade her personal space. She eventually came to lean right over her, hands resting against the desk, effectively trapping Root in place. Root swallowed a lump that formed in her throat, the proximity creating an electricity that was almost unbearable. Shaw reached for Root's glasses and slowly pulled them from her face, placing them safely on the desk behind her.

 

“See, here's what I know,” Shaw lifted one of her hands from the desk and teased the front of Root's shirt. She grasped the highest button and pulled it free. “You're hot,” she pulled the second button loose. “You're scary smart,” and the third. “Plus, you're kind of a badass,” Shaw curled her fingers in the fabric. “I admire those qualities. Very much.”

 

Root's senses were on fire, she was surprised that Shaw couldn't hear her thundering heart. She tentatively reached out and and took Shaw's face in her hands, eyes zeroing in on her full lips. In unison they surged forward to press their lips together, Root's hands moving to grasp the back of Shaw's head. The fact that the detective was a bit rough was unsurprising, but the truly unexpected aspect was that it left Root wanting so much more. She wanted to feel Shaw's teeth scrape against her flesh, her fingernails rake across her back, and her strong arms holding her tight.

 

She took the lapels of Shaw's jacket and pushed it over her shoulders, and Shaw set her arms back until the leather fell to the floor. She was insistent, Root felt her tongue, teeth, and breath in all the right ways, she sighed her name in the brief moments when their lips parted. Shaw moved to nip at her jaw, then her neck, while both hands worked their way up the back of Root's shirt, the contact alone was almost enough to send her over the edge.

 

Root made to grasp the hem of Shaw's shirt, but her hands ending up coming hard against her abdomen, causing the other woman to groan loudly and stop her motions. Shaw was still recovering from injury, after all.

 

She tried to fumble through an apology, but the only response was a low growl as Shaw pressed her lips to Root's jugular. “No talking,” the words reverberated through her neck, at the same time she made quick work of the remaining buttons on her shirt.

 

Shaw hooked her hands under Root's thighs and lifted her from the desk, pain obviously forgotten, and deposited her down on the couch just a foot away. Root ran her hands up Shaw's thighs as she straddled her hips and quickly shed her black t-shirt. Shaw leaned down and began peppering kisses to Root's chest, starting innocently enough, but growing in intensity, eventually taking some skin between her teeth.

 

Root was making quick work of Shaw's leather belt, pulling it free of her pants when she heard the distinct vibration of a cell phone. “Shaw,” she breathed. “Your phone.”

 

Clearly occupied with something else, Shaw captured Root's lips again. “Ignore it.”

 

“It could be important,” her voice pitched higher when Shaw's hand began sliding up her thigh, just under the hem of her skirt.

 

“It's not.”

 

Root pulled the cellphone from Shaw's back pocket, since her hands were in the area anyway, and held the device out. Very reluctantly, Shaw sat back on Root's lap and took the phone from her, sighing heavily.

 

“ _What?_ ” She listened for a beat. “I am very busy right now,” Root smirked when their eyes met, Shaw just rolled her eyes. “Fuck. Okay, fine. I'm coming.”

 

“You wish,” Root muttered, her hands teasing the inside of Shaw's thighs. Shaw tried to glare in response, but disappointment was more evident on her face.

 

Shaw huffed and climbed off the couch, picking her discarded shirt from the floor, while Root was perfectly content to watch her.

 

“This is what we're going to do,” Shaw began, pulling the shirt over her head. “I'm going to deal with this _bull_ shit and once I'm finished, we're having dinner.”

 

“We are?”

 

“Yeah, we are. I know a place, great view.”

 

Root watched the detective pull the belt back through the loops in her pants. “That kind of sounds like a date.”

 

“Whatever,” Shaw shook her head. “I'm picking you up at 7:15.”

 

She turned to leave, but Root quickly stepped to her. “Sameen, wait,” she reached out and took Shaw's face in her hands again, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss, really trying to drink in her very essence. Shaw seemed to be doing the same, groaning slightly as she pulled away. They parted slowly, and Root spoke the next words into the other woman's mouth: “Don't be late.” Root ran her thumb across Shaw's lips to wipe the lipstick that must have smeared during their wonderfully messy kisses.

 

Shaw nodded and leaned to collect her jacket from the floor. As she left, Root couldn't help think that having a locking door to her office may come in very handy.

 

 

 

 

/

 

 

 

 

Ever the punctual police officer, Shaw arrived at Root's apartment at 7:13PM and this time it was Root's turn to be shocked as the door opened. The detective showed up in a very flattering and _very_ form fitting black dress, with heels and a clutch to match. Not to mention her long dark hair was freely cascading around her shoulders. Root wore a black dress of her own, having swept her hair to the side in a low pony tail.

 

“Sameen...” Root gave her a blatant once-over. “You look...”

 

“I know,” she was smug. Rightfully so. “You ready?”

 

Shaw drove them to the restaurant, and the pair were seated immediately at a table overlooking the river. Shaw definitely didn't exaggerate the view, seeing the New York skyline lit up from this perspective was breathtaking.

 

Their meal is shared mostly in silence, which suited Root just fine. She enjoyed watching the other woman; how she carried herself, how she interacted with staff, how she ate. Once the table was cleared of food, Root ordered coffee, and Shaw a neat whiskey. Root had offered to pay for her portion but Shaw refused, making a comment about poor basement salary.

 

“How do you feel about dessert?” Shaw eventually asked.

 

“To be honest, Sameen,” she spun the cup around on it's saucer. “I've been thinking about dessert all night.”

 

Shaw smiled, and took a modest sip from her glass. “Just the check, then,” she motioned to their waiter.

 

As they sat together, a thought struck Root. “When did you decide to take me here?”

 

Shaw shrugged. “My phone rang before we could have sex.”

 

Root breathed out a laugh. She tried to appreciate the other woman's bluntness, but it sounded a bit tawdry. “Just another conquest, then?”

 

“No,” the answer came quicker than she was expecting. Root raised her eyebrows. “You're... different.” She waited a beat, thinking there might be more, but all Shaw added was: “And I don't hate kissing you.”

 

Oddly, the comment made Root feel like the luckiest girl in New York City. “Want to get out of here?”

 

“Absolutely,” The waiter dropped off the bill, which Shaw quickly signed for. As she stood from the table, her phone buzzed loudly. “Man, we cannot catch a break,” she took the device from her clutch and read the message. “Body dropped down in the financial district.”

 

Root frowned. “Do you think the universe is sending us a message?”

 

Shaw vehemently shook her head as she put her coat on. “The universe can bite me. Our night is far from over.”

 

“You just got called away to investigate a murder. Seems pretty over to me.”

 

“Well it's a good thing you're coming with me. It's still Friday, which means we're still partners.”

 

...Did she just say they were partners?

 

Though her body now mostly faced away, Shaw's hand was outstretched to Root. Trying to find balance between her duty to her job while attempting to reach out on a different level. The fact that Shaw hadn't looked her in the eye for a few minutes was a small indication of the inner struggle to connect.

 

Root grasped Shaw's open hand and stood from her seat. Shaw looked to her with surprised eyes, perhaps thinking that the other woman to refuse (as if she could). Murder or robbery, hookup or a date, Root was grateful for the time she got to spend with the detective. As they left the restaurant, she couldn't help wonder where their next adventure would lead.

 

 

 

\--

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the conclusion, but I added a short nonsense chapter for tomorrow to finish the week.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> ShootWeek Day 6: Why you ship Shoot  
> "These two people love each other and should be together."


	7. BONUS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This sad excuse for an update was all I could think of to reach day 7. Sorry to disappoint! Scroll down for some fun facts.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**TO CATCH A THIEF**

_By: Robin Farrow_

_Our great city can rest easy knowing that a dangerous criminal is securely behind bars. Thanks to the gallant efforts of the New York City Police Department, along with yours truly, Joseph Lamoureux was arrested on Thursday afternoon, and charged various property crimes. At least three homes in Morningside Heights had been a target of Lamoureux, but thankfully now all of the stolen items had been recovered._

_The lead officer on the case, Detective Sameen Shaw had the following to say: “I'm not giving you a stupid quote.”_

_Despite her obvious modesty, Detective Shaw was instrumental in bring the thief to justice, sacrificing her time and body for the case. With essentially no back-up, Shaw personally returned the stolen goods to their rightful owners, as well as risked her life in a dangerous foot chase in order to make the arrest._

_We found that Lamoureux had lived and work near where most of the crimes took place. His employer said that he had issues with theft in the past, but was mostly limited to petty cash, or small items. This appears to be his first major crime, and he is scheduled to appear in court two weeks from now._

_I urge you, fellow citizens, to remain vigilant in your safety. We live in the greatest city on Earth, but it is not without dangers. Lock your doors, update your personal passwords, and keep your possessions close. I'd like to personally thank the New York City Police Department for bringing Lamoureux to justice, as well as our Editor in Chief, Harold Finch, for orchestrating the joint operation, allowing our small group of journalists to get a real look at how this city is kept safe._

_Until next time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -There were supposed to be two separate times that Root fell asleep on Shaw's shoulder. One where she'd nudge her awake right away, and the second time she let her sleep.  
> -Shaw was not a cop initially, but a reporter as well.  
> -After coming back to the paper on night, Shaw helps herself to the scotch she has in her desk. Not wanting to be rude, she offers some to Root who nearly does a spit take, asking her if it's moonshine or something. Shaw calls her a lightweight and probably a loser.  
> -The mugging was to take place at night while the pair walked to the train station together. It still ended with Root using a taser, but Shaw would have witnessed it in this instance.  
> -Before settling on Carter, the cop who talks to Root on Monday was both John and Zoe at one point.  
> -Root's past was more colorful and she was _much_ more violent.  
>  -Simon originally kissed Shaw back when they were in the bullpen together. I couldn't decide if I wanted it to happen before or after Root kissed her, so it was scrapped.  
> -He also flirted with her more directly while Root was around.  
> -I wanted a scene involving Shaw noticing a small detail about Root, whether it was something little she did while working, or something specific that she liked to eat (ie picking pepperoni off pizza).  
> -The newspaper is so low-key that the issues are weekly, rather than daily.  
> -The building itself was a lot bigger, and Root's new office was on the 11th floor at first.  
> -Someone was to walk in to catch them in a compromising position up in Root's office, to which Shaw responded by slamming the door shut and locking it.  
> -The final date scene was going to be a one year flash-forward, showing that they were still going out, but also still working together.  
> -At one point I wanted them to have to break into a building together, having Root distract the guard in order to gain access. She'd be dressed scantily clad and flirt her way passed the guard and then do some kind of hacking before leaving. Shaw would be across the street watching from another building, trying to focus but being distracted by Root's legs and/or sexy voice.  
> -I don't even read the newspaper, so I'm not sure any of this story made sense in that regard.
> 
> That's all I have for now. Hopefully it makes up for this "update". 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and shout out to everyone who participated in ShootWeek.
> 
>  
> 
> ShootWeek Day 7: Head canon  
> Root resumed painting her nails post 5x13.


End file.
